


A Historiography of Magic

by MissWoodhouse



Series: History of Magic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWoodhouse/pseuds/MissWoodhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for a bit of a curriculum revamp.</p><p>Because if you really think about it, the long term ramifications of Binns' eternal incompetence is one of the scariest things in the books. "Those who don't learn their history..." and all that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Historiography of Magic

Julie had always hated History of Magic. Which was why, of course, she was currently sitting in the headmistress’ office, talking her way into an interview for a post that was not currently vacant. Because Julie had hated History of Magic, with its oh so very official capital H and capital M, and its professor who was the epitome of a dead white guy. No seriously, Binns was a ghost, translucent, chalk-white, and a literal relic of days gone by, who hadn’t updated an opinion or a lesson plan in decades at the very least. He droned on and on about the battles of the Goblin Wars and – well to be honest most students fell asleep before learning anything further. Heaven forbid they learn anything useful – anything about the Grindlewald War, or Voldemort, or anyone else calling himself the Dark Lord, because Merlin knows what those were if not a case study in history repeating itself. Had wizards never heard that those who do not learn their history are doomed to repeat it?

So anyway, Julie had hated History of Magic, but she had always loved the history of magic, and so had found herself possibly the first student in anyone’s living memory (because Binns, you will recall, was dead, and probably wouldn’t remember anyone anyway) to achieve NEWT level in History of Magic. In fact, when she signed on to continue the course in her sixth year, it was discovered that Binns had not taught the course at NEWT level in so long that there simply was no course (or exam for that matter) for her to take. She was allowed to continue in the subject as an independent study and thank the Lord with someone other than Binns as her advisor for it too.

Her friends all teased her mercilessly about it – no one could understand the desire to continue on in so boring a subject, but they soon found that with Julie in charge of her own curriculum, it actually became quite interesting. Although they continued to joke that as she was the only one studying the subject, she could be making it all up and they would be none the wiser. Privately, Julie laughed to herself that “they would be none the wiser” probably applied the board of examiners as well.

She made a pass through some of the more recent history that Binns had ignored, then chose to focus her thesis on the intersections of the muggle and magical worlds. Of course anyone with half a brain and even the vaguest working knowledge of muggle history could tell you that Grindlewald and the Second World War were all tied up in each other, but Julie knew there was more. How many names had she come across in a book of wizarding genealogy that rang a bell from History class in primary school? Back before the Statute of Secrecy, the two worlds had been far more intertwined than anyone not familiar with both might have guessed. Although Ye Olde Ministry must have had some pretty good Obliviators to cover up all the magic so the muggles wouldn’t remember. They’d left some whispers of the truth behind however, carried in rumors of witchcraft from Anne Boleyn (a squib) and the Woodville clan. They’d left rather a gaping whole in regards to the latter, as two princes who went off to Hogwarts suddenly seemed to have vanished from the Tower of London. Given the Black-like (i.e. convoluted and incestuous) nature of the royal family tree at the time, Julie was rather surprised the whole lot of them hadn’t turned out to be pure blood wizards.

The really interesting stuff though, was when Julie got even further back, through myths and legends, to the days before wand use was standard among the magic-users of the British Isles. She re-read the fairytales and folktales of her youth, and found the magic in them wasn’t quite so ridiculous as most wizards dismissed them for being. In fact, if you replaced the word “fairy” with “witch” (except in cases where the muggles meant for it to mean sprite), there was nothing at all wrong with most of them. The “fairy godmother” in Cinderella (since “witches” in such tales were always evil) used some engorgement charms and transfiguration to turn the pumpkin into a carriage, and while anyone knew you couldn’t transfigure animals into fully functional humans, there was nothing in the story to suggest that the mice-cum-footmen spoke or thought, or did anything at all besides stand there and open a carriage door, which was probably within the limits of mouse-ly intellect. If she were braver, she might have gone into a career in experimental spells, and tried to rediscover the now-lost wandless magic that had once been freely practiced on these shores. If Stonehenge hadn’t been part of some elaborate ritual or other, she’d eat her hat. Perhaps she’d set Andy on that. He was an Unspeakable after all, and the dangers of experimental spell-making probably fell into his domain (he never actually told anyone just what exactly his job entailed). Although, if Andy did find anything, he’d never be able to tell her about it, so never mind. Unless she could convince him to look into it off the clock.

Anyway, now she found herself in the Headmistress’ office, trying to explain the benefits of hiring a new living, breathing professor who had to be paid, as a replacement for the ghost who would be quiet happy to work without compensation for the rest of eternity. Well, when she put it that way, she might not hire herself either.

Focus. She’s got plenty of useful information to teach, which is more than anyone could say for Binns. Even anyone who was trying to be generous. Which she’s not.

And yes, she would have to revamp the entire curriculum to teach what she wants to teach, and yes, that will mean plenty of bureaucratic hoops for her to jump through – and for the headmistress to jump through (but don’t mention that bit) – but she’s prepared for that. And considering that most of the graduating students don’t (unless they’ve got Granger blood and therefore immunity to Binns' sonorous sounds) leave the castle remembering anything they learned in that class - hell, most of them don’t remember a word of it five minutes after they’ve finished the History of Magic OWL, and looking at records of test scores, many of them don’t even manage that - how can anyone complain about sacking a professor who has proven nothing if not his inability to teach the material?

Oh, well maybe that does explain it. Yes, certain members of the board of governors with rather old-fashioned (cough, bigoted) views might very well prefer that history was left unlearned. Although one could point out to them that if the bad guys learned their history too, they might stop making the same idiotic mistakes! Okay, so antagonizing the board of governors might not be her best move. Duly noted. Moving on.

It’s not that she wants to replace Muggle Studies. Not at all. But most students never take that class – and it’s filled with trivialities and misinformation and why hasn’t anyone thought to hire a muggleborn, who would actually know what they’re talking about, to teach the class? Anyway, she doesn’t want to replace it, just give the students a better context for the history they’re learning, and their place in the wider world today. She’d add some more about the historical relationship with the international magical community as well. But the current history curriculum only serves to promote the insularity and prejudice that has been so problematic in magical Britain. If we want to improve relations with the goblins (and considering they have complete control of the nation’s magical economy that seems like rather a good idea, don’t you think?), then might it not be advisable to give students a broader view of the conflict of the Goblin Wars, to teach them both sides of the story and the issues the war was fought over, rather than a litany of battles and how many of us they slaughtered and them we vanquished? Because all that kind of history does is reaffirm that they are our enemies.

Its time for magical education to make its way into the modern world. Time for the students of Hogwarts to be taught in ways that bring hope of a brighter future. And Julie is going to help make it happen.

\----

Several weeks later, she receives a letter by owl post. Now all she has to do is plan her curriculum, write some lesson plans, and figure out how on earth she’s ever going to manage teaching a classroom full of children. (She thinks Binns had the distinct advantage of being a: completely indifferent to the opinions of his students and b: incorporeal and therefore able to completely ignore anything they decided to – literally – throw at him. Something which she has on good authority, as several of the boys in her class had made a habit of doing just that.) Well, if it ever gets boring, she can always start on writing an entirely new edition of _A History of Magic_ , so someday she can assign a textbook that doesn’t make her itch to cast an incendio.

\---

It’s hardest at first, to figure out what on earth to teach the upperclassmen, who have learned almost nothing in their years with Binns. And yet she can’t give them just the first year basics either. She’s almost ready to have them finish out their schooling with Binns, but he’d been quite offended and left the castle in a huff when the Headmistress told him he was being replaced. Not surprising really. That, and she wouldn’t have been able, in good conscience, to inflict any more of that man’s droning on anyone. Her fourth and fifth years are already conditioned to fall asleep at the first mention of history, and all they want to do is pass their OWLs and get out of the classroom. But the second and third years, those she wins over, even gets a small NEWT class in her fourth year teaching – only the smallest handful of students, but still. It grows the next year, and the next. And suddenly her first group of first years are seventeen and graduating and wasn’t that her not too long ago?

\---

She never does get around to writing that new textbook. But then, she doesn’t have to. One of her seventh years – in the early days before there’s anyone competent enough in the ministry’s educational department to write a new exam – shows her an especially impressive NEWT thesis, and she encourages him to develop it into a full book. It’s less morally duplicitous to assign a textbook written by her star pupil than to require everyone to buy one she’s written anyway. And in no way shape or form is that an excuse because she’s too lazy to write it herself. Maybe. She does write an introduction for his second edition, at least.

\---

One day, she glances through one of the career advice packets left out for the fifth years to go through. She isn’t a head of house, so she doesn’t do career advice meetings, and hasn’t had any real reason to look at them since she was a student. She’s surprised to find that NEWT level History of Magic is now a recommended qualification for several career paths, including Curse Breaking and the Office of International Magical Cooperation. She smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to expand on this idea with some short fics imagining the magical side of muggle historical events (i.e. Anne Boylen as a squib or an explanation for the disappearance of the Princes in the Tower). I can't promise that I'll find time to write them, but let me know in the comments if you've got any ideas you'd like to see/discuss.


End file.
